All Over Again
by Missie DuCaine
Summary: Caleb always said he wasn't his father. Sarah knows this is true... he has twice the temptation.
1. Chapter 1

**All Over Again**

**Rated: G**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Covenant, or the Sons of Ipswich. They belong to somebody rich and famous and _wonderful_. I love them. Really. I do.**

* * *

Sarah wasn't stupid.

She'd read enough about Ipswich to know all about its sons, and their powers. She knew, watched as Caleb's hair grew whiter almost daily, remembered the day he came home and she swore there were more crow's feet by his darkly serious eyes than there had been when he'd left that morning. Caleb's power was seductive, and he obviously was using it.

He'd said he wasn't his father, and he wasn't.

He was twice as powerful.

And had, therefore, twice the temptation. She didn't call him on it, but she knew.

Like I said, Sarah wasn't stupid.

She knew a lot of things, noticed what Caleb assumed she didn't, like the bittersweet way he smiled when he watched over their sleeping son, torn between the love of a father and the horror of passing on a burden. She noticed the way his eyes didn't light up for her quite the way they did when Pogue would show up on their doorstep, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

She even noticed the haunted, horrified look in those eyes when he limped into the dining room that night.

"What happened?" She asked, softly, setting a plate in front of him.

"Nothing." he said shortly, turning his attention to their son. "What'd you do in school today, John?"

"We drew pictures for Hallowe'en!" the six year old chirped, proudly wrestling a large sheet of newsprint from under the table to show them. "I drew a witch!"

The witch was male, young and handsome with eyes as black as sin.

Caleb winced. "It's very nice, John."

It pained him to see his son know so much already - especially seeing as he had never been told. It was just in his blood.

Like father, like son.

"Can I put it on the fridge?"

Caleb nodded, shortly, and a delighted John dashed to the kitchen, large paper flapping around him.

The moment he was gone, Sarah turned to face Caleb again. "I'm not stupid. Something happened."

"I told you, it's nothing." He stood, brushing past her.

"Caleb!" she called. "You're limping, and I can see the white. You're aging again. You've been using. What happened?"

Caleb's shoulders slumped, and his teeth grit angrily. "I'm leaving."

"You're _what_!" she gaped at him.

"I'm taking John." he said, not looking at her. "We're leaving tonight."

"How can you say that?" she yelled, grabbing his arm. "Caleb! You're taking our son? You can't... I love you!"

He did glance at her now, and she shivered to see his eyes were pure black. "I have to go, Sarah. I don't want to, but I have to go, and I have to take John. We're all going. Our whole Covenant."

"But _why_?" she cried, struggling to understand.

Caleb sighed.

"Because Chase is back."

She gasped.

"And he has a son, too."


	2. Chapter 2

**All Over Again. **

**Rating: PG at this point, but the rating will go up as the story goes on. **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own The Covenant, but I've gone to see it twice. :D **

**Thanks to everyone whose read/reviewed so far! I love you! Thank you!**

* * *

Sometimes, people can be characterized by their actions, or actions that they haven't done.

For instance, Chase Collins - or Pope, depending on his motives at the time - could be described as having been the boy to pull the wings off of flies. To his remembrance, he'd never actually done so, but it was the kind of typifying action that characterized him.

And if Chase was the type of boy to pull wings off flies, his six year old son Paris was the type of boy who rumours told had put his goldfish through the blender just to see what it would look like.

His son's small hand curled in his, Chase strolled almost lazily up the long driveway, his other hand in his pocket. Both he and Paris seemed unconcerned with the fine, misting rain, and strode purposefully up to the front door, knocking firmly. They waited a moment, patiently, then the door swung open, and Sarah Danvers stood in the doorway, her tear stained face peering out at them warily. At sight of them, however, her eyes lit up.

"Caleb!" she cried, leaping forward to hug him. "Please, don't leave, we can work this out! We'll stop Chase together, we'll get Pogue and Reid and Tyler, you can stop him, the four of you..."

"I know, I'm sorry," he murmured, soothingly, motioning his son inside. "I just wasn't thinking, Sarah, I didn't want to hurt you..."

Paris dashed inside, a boy on a very specific mission, and he grinned. "Why don't we go inside, then, where it's dry?"

Hiccuping a little, Sarah nodded, wiping frantically at her eyes. "You scared me, Caleb," she whispered.

"Would I do that?" he smirked.

Paris ran out of the kitchen, holding a large painting that had been hanging on the fridge, shaking his head.

"This all you could find?" he asked, turning away from Sarah to crouch in front of his son. "Witches. Fascinating, isn't it?"

"Caleb?" Sarah asked softly, confused.

Chase stood, reaching down to ruffle Paris' hair, then turned to face her, letting the false image around him melt away.

Sarah's eyes widened, and she stumbled backwards, back colliding against the table, hand flying up to cover her mouth. "Chase," she breathed, horrified. "John... no..."

Reaching over, Chase pulled Paris to his side, letting the glamour melt off him too. Smirking, he delighted in the way her blood drained from her face upon realizing that it was his son standing, grinning, at his side, and not hers. "You don't have to do this, Chase..."

"This?" he repeated. "What 'this' am I doing, exactly? I thought I was just visiting and old friend. We _were_ friends, weren't we, Sarah? But now that you mention it... I believe I did promise Caleb that if he touched you, you'd die." He smirked. "I'm thinking that the fact you have a _son_ is a pretty good indication that I have a promise to keep."

"Please," she whispered, "No..."

Still grinning, he ran his fingers through Paris' hair, beaming as his son laughed at the small handful of spiders he came up with. His son loved seeing him work.

"No no no no..." she cried, in a bit of a mantra.

"Sorry," he shrugged, "But a promise is a promise."

Paris giggled.


	3. Chapter 3

"Marsh! Where the hell are you? We need to go!"

Reid threw a pile of socks in the duffel bag splayed out on his bed, growling in frustration. This would be a hell of a lot easier if he could remember where he'd actually _put_ everything. As it was... there was clothing everywhere, and he _still_ couldn't find his keys.

"Where are my keys?! Marsh! Have you seen my keys?!"

There was a soft jingling sound at the door, and Reid spun quickly, blinking in surprise. A tiny, blonde boy stood in the doorway, arms crossed, pout set in full force.

And dangling from one of his little hands was a set of keys. Reid's keys. With the little string voodoo doll and everything.

"Great, you found them." He started forward, only to have the boy shove the keys in his pocket and glare up at Reid. "What?"

"I don't want to go anywhere," the boy said stubbornly. "I want to stay here."

Reid groaned. _Shit_. "Marsh..."

"No!" Marsh yelled, hands on his little hips. "Mommy said she was gonna come back _here_! If we go somewhere else, she won't be able to find us!"

Reid threw his hands up. "She's not coming _back_, Marshall! She's been gone over a _year_! She is gone, and good fucking riddance to her, too! I don't care if she never comes back, got it!"

His son's face scrunched up in fury, and he retrieved the car keys to throw them at Reid with enough force that he gasped in pain when they hit him in the chest. "I hate you!" Marshall screamed, then dashed from the room, making Reid wince when the boy slammed his bedroom door shut with enough force to rattle the entire tiny, shaky apartment.

"Hey!" came a muffled shout from the floor below, and thumping on the wall.

"Yeah, shut up!" Reid shouted back, then flopped, frustrated, on his bed. "Fucked up again, Garwin. Real mature, swearing at a seven year old. Yeah. That's good parenting, right there. Dammit, why'd she - ?" Reid cut himself off before he could lament that his girlfriend Dominca could have had the stupid bad sense to leave him with a six year old and expect him to be able to raise him by himself, not entirely because he didn't believe it, but also because the walls of this hellhole he'd found his way into were thin enough Marshall would probably be able to hear him.

Pushing himself up, Reid headed slowly down the hall, pushing Marshall's door open. "Marsh? Hey, buddy."

Marshall was sitting on his bed, a half packed Batman backpack on the bed beside him. There were tear-tracks on his face, and he still looked resentful.

"Hi." Reid took a deep breath. "I... you know I didn't mean that, right? I shouldn't have said that..."

"I know." Marsh said softly, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. "I want mom back."

"So do I, Marsh, believe me." Reid smirked, remembering. _She cleaned, she could cook food that at least didn't taste like cardboard... and _damn_, that thing she did when she was..._ He cleared his throat. "Come on, the others are waiting for us."

"Is Chase really that bad?" Marshall asked, swinging off his bed and tossing a few more haphazard items of clothing in his backpack.

"Yeah," Reid sighed. "He is. Did you pack any underwear, little man?"

Marsh rolled his eyes, but headed over to the dresser to grab a few pairs and shove them into the bag, along with his ragged blue and red clown doll. His mother had gotten him that stupid thing, and he'd loved it because it had 'silkies' - red ribbons tied around its neck. He'd liked to rub the 'silkies' while he sat around sucking his thumb. Even now, he still rubbed the ribbons in his sleep.He'd worn right through the ribbons five or six times already.

The front door opened, and Reid spun, eyes already black, and Marshall dropped the bag to dart behind his father, clinging to the back of his shirt.

Caleb rounded the corner, and Reid's shoulders slumped in relief, eyes fading.

"Hey. You almost ready?" Caleb asked, eyes serious.

Reid nodded. "Marsh?"

He held up his little backpack.

"Right. Let's go."

And as they left, Reid made sure to slam the front door with as much force as he figured it's flimsy frame could take. _Ha_.


End file.
